My calico tarantula-killer Clementine has hopped in my lap and asked if she may visit the tavern through that Southwest door, but I told her she'd end up smelling like singed fir and she'd probably just tangle with the duck and the snat to boot.

Time to go put some more chips under the salmon. Any more fruit smoothies being whipped up, Allan? And what are you going to do with the shad?